


canvas of experience

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Big Time Adolescence (2020)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, M/M, Making Out, Post-Movie, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-23 00:36:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23402938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Mo never got the 'tongue daddy' tattoo covered up. Zeke has some feelings about it.
Relationships: Monroe "Mo" Harris/Zeke Presanti
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49





	canvas of experience

**Author's Note:**

> this is nothing but pure filth. truly, some of my horniest work.
> 
> thanks to Hannah for beta'ing. enjoy!

“You didn’t get it covered up,” Zeke says against Mo’s chest.

“What?” Mo asks, a little dazed. They’ve been lazily making out for what feels like hours now, Mo’s rock hard in his sweats, and he can’t decide if he wants to hurry the fuck up and come or drag this out even longer. He lifts his head slightly to look at Zeke, who grins up at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Tongue daddy,” Zeke says simply. He presses a wet, smacking kiss to the tattoo. 

Mo’s cheeks burn with a blush that has nothing to do with his arousal. He doesn’t even have a comeback. He could say he never covered up the stupid tattoo because he doesn’t like needles. Or because getting tattoos cost money when they aren’t done by a stoner friend in a dirty living room. He could say anything and he knows Zeke would believe him, or at least not nag him about it.

But the truth is, he hasn’t covered it because he likes the memory. Sure, it got him in major amounts of trouble and sure, it marked the real turning point of the downward spiral that was his sophomore year of high school. But it’s a memory nonetheless, one that had made Mo so happy at the time. It was like Zeke said, that afternoon at his work— _we have a memory_. 

“I dig it,” Zeke says. “S’cute.”

“ _So_ cute,” Mo says with a groan, one of annoyance rather than pleasure. “It’s really adorable, sure.”

Zeke doesn’t reply to the goading. Instead, he traces the faded letters with the tip of his tongue, and Mo’s cock gets that much harder. He teases the edge of Mo’s nipple but never gives it the attention it needs, and Mo lets out a frustrated huff. “Mo? What’cha want, baby?”

“You’re such a dick,” Mo whines. He’s got one hand in Zeke’s hair, tugging every now and then. “C’mon, stop teasing me.”

“Nah, dude, you kept this stupid fucking tattoo, I fucking love it.” Zeke kisses it again, then traces the letters once more. Then, he finally seals his lips around Mo’s nipple and sucks hard. Mo gasps and arches his back, and Zeke keeps suckling. It’s zero to sixty, immediately, the pleasure running like electric shocks down Mo’s spine. Too soon, his nipple is oversensitive and sore but he never wants it to end.

“Zeke, Zeke, Zeke,” Mo pants, “please, c’mon, I need you.”

“You got me.” Zeke bites Mo’s nipple one last time and swallows his cry with a kiss. “You always got me, Momo.”

Mo whines and tugs at Zeke’s hair again, bites at his lips when he starts to pull away from the kiss. “Hurry up and fuck me, then. Fuck.”

“So needy,” Zeke teases, like the tip of his cock isn’t peeking over the waistband of his own sweats. “What do you want, Mo? Want me inside you? Want my mouth on you?” 

“Anything,” he gasps, “I don’t give a fuck, just _touch_ me, Zeke, please.” 

Zeke leans away long enough to grab the lube and Mo whines again at the loss of heat. “I’m here, I’m here,” Zeke murmurs, “gonna open you up, ‘kay, Mo?”

Mo nods. He reaches down and shoves at his sweats, Zeke helping him with his free hand. The sweats get tossed off the bed to some corner of their room. Zeke wastes no time slicking up three fingers and sliding his hand between Mo’s thighs. Zeke presses in with just one finger at first, and Mo wants to scream.

“You know I can take more,” he pants even as he works his hips against the single finger.

“I know,” Zeke says with a shit-eating grin. “But I wanna open you up real slow, n’then I want you to sit on my cock so I can play with your cute little tits.”

“Oh, _fuck_.” Mo chokes on his next inhale and for a split second, he’s worried he might come. His cock has been hard for too long, and even just one finger is enough to inch him that much closer to coming. Combine it with Zeke’s filthy fucking mouth, and Mo could easily be done for.

He’s saved by Zeke taking pity on him and adding a second finger; it burns a little, the stretch just this side of too much too soon. It takes some of the edge off and Mo lets out a relieved sigh.

“You’re such a kinky little freak,” Zeke whispers reverently. He dips his head to mouth kisses along Mo’s collarbone, his rumbling voice vibrating Mo down to his core. “You like the little bit of pain, I love that ‘bout you, Momo.” Zeke bites at the ball of Mo’s shoulder and sucks a hickey into his skin, red and a little painful. “You love it when I tell you all the nasty shit I wanna do to you.” 

Mo whimpers and spreads his legs a little wider. It’s an invitation that Zeke takes—he adds a third finger and fucks into Mo faster, harder. He pants against Mo’s neck and nips at his skin. Mo’s cock, hard, brushes against Zeke’s stomach every so often and the brief touches are driving him up a fucking wall.

“C’mon,” Mo moans eventually, when his skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat and his whole body feels like a livewire, “let me up, wanna ride you.”

“You look so good like this, Mo.” Zeke has spent his time multitasking—fingering Mo with deft, unwavering precision, and covering his chest in hickeys like cheetah spots. Mo, when he glances down at his chest, thinks he looks as though he’s been mauled.

He likes it.

“Please, Zeke,” he whines, pushing at Zeke’s chest. “Please.”

Zeke shudders and Mo smirks. That voice, the pleading tone, always gets to him. Zeke pulls his fingers out and wipes them on the sheet before flopping onto his side of the bed. He situations himself leaning up against the headboard and gestures to his lap. 

It takes a second for Mo to figure out how his limbs work again and even then, he’s too impatient to wait for feeling to come back to his fingers and toes. He clumsily clambers into Zeke’s lap and plants his hands on Zeke’s shoulders. 

“Help me out,” he mutters as he steadies himself. 

Zeke obeys by placing one hand on Mo’s hip and taking his own cock by the base. “You’re perfect, Mo, love watching this.”

Mo hiccups around a moan as he sinks down, the fat head of Zeke’s cock splitting him open immediately. Zeke is _big_. Not like, pornstar-huge, but longer and thicker than Mo’s own cock or any other he’s ever fooled around with. The stretch is almost too much, every single time Mo takes it, and he relishes the feeling.

As he sinks onto Zeke’s cock, he admires his boyfriend below him. He admires his tattoos, and the blotchy flush of arousal on his skin. Zeke acts cool and aloof, but Mo likes knowing he’s just as affected by all this as Mo is. Mo rides him slowly at first, adjusting to the feeling, and for a moment the whole mood slows down. It’s not as frantic, not as desperate. 

Zeke’s hands on Mo’s hips move reverently. They slide up to the slight dip of his waist before coming back down around to the curve of his ass. Zeke grips his ass, long bony fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises. Mo winds his arms around Zeke’s shoulders and leans in close, nuzzling their noses together. They kiss idly, lazily, like they’ve got all the time in the world. 

“You feel so good around my cock, Mo, fuck.” Zeke’s hips start to work in a tight circle, rocking Mo up with the gentle force of his thrusts. “Could watch you take it all day.”

Mo can only whine in response as Zeke’s thrusts get faster and harder. His thighs burn with the effort to keep up but Zeke’s hands on his ass, guiding him, help at least a little.

Right up until Zeke seals his lips over Mo’s left nipple, lips pressed right against his stupid fucking tattoo. Zeke’s mouth is hot and wet and he immediately bites down on the sensitive nub and it’s like Mo’s a marionette puppet and Zeke’s just cut the wires. It’s all Mo can do to shiver and cradle Zeke’s head to his chest as the other man starts a relentless onslaught on his abused nipple. 

Even when Zeke switches sides, Mo’s brain is too foggy with pleasure to think, let alone move his hips. Zeke’s still fucking him, still nipping at each nipple until they’re red and swollen. 

“Fuck, Mo, look at your tits,” Zeke murmurs, his breath like a sting against Mo’s delicate skin. “So fuckin’ red.” He laves his tongue against the tattoo and mutters, with a laugh, “Tongue daddy.”

“It’s so stupid,” Mo gasps even as his dick twitches.

“Yeah, but you let me do that to you,” Zeke murmurs. He presses his words against Mo’s skin along with kisses, a trail up his chest, his neck, to his jawline. “Just like you’re lettin’ me fuck your pretty little ass. You give me so much, Mo, so good for me.”

Mo shudders and whines as his cock starts to pulse. “Coming,” he gasps out, voice thin from forgetting to breathe. 

“Yeah,” Zeke whispers back. He leans against the headboard and watches—so Mo watches too. 

The angles are different, but even from a bird’s eye view, the sight of his swollen nipples and his bobbing, flushed cock isn’t half bad. Mo whines as he watches come spurt from the tip onto Zeke’s chest, splattering across his tattoos. A possessive thrill flares up in Mo’s heart, one he knows is mirrored in Zeke’s own heart. Mo forces himself to keep his eyes open as milky white hits Zeke’s ink—the shark, some lyric, reaching as high as the dip in his collarbone, even. 

“Fuck, Mo,” Zeke groans. He’s still holding Mo’s ass like a lifeline, and Mo’s looking forward to the fingerprint shaped bruises he’ll find in the morning. 

Mo reaches down and swipes his fingers through the come on Zeke’s chest, smearing it across two fingers before pressing them against Zeke’s lips. Zeke’s moan is deep, throaty, and he opens his mouth for Mo’s fingers to slide across his tongue. Mo shakes at the feeling of Zeke’s tongue lapping the come off his fingers, and shudders at the feeling of Zeke’s cock pulsing in his ass, come filling him up.

Mo rides it out as Zeke bucks up into him, movements jerky and uneven, until Zeke goes still and slack against the headboard. 

“C’mere,” Zeke mumbles once Mo’s fingers drop from his mouth, spit-sticky. Mo leans in immediately for a kiss but before long they’re grinning too much to kiss properly. “I like the tattoo, y’know. M’glad you didn’t get it covered up.” 

“Me too,” Mo says. “It always reminds me of you.”

Zeke’s smile turns softly and gentle, like his hands roaming Mo’s body once more. “Maybe I should buy you a better tat, for your birthday or something. Something else to remind you of me that’s a little less stupid.”

Mo shrugs. “I think I’m good with the one. I’ve got all I need.”

Zeke hides his face against Mo’s neck, but his smile burns like the best kind of brand. 


End file.
